VM RPF: Organ-asmic (KB/CL) PG-13
Title: Organ-asmic
Author: No one who will admit to it
Word Count: 566 words
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Kristen Bell/Chris Lowell
A/N: This is 100%, completely leobrat's fault. She tricked me. She put it in my head and wouldn't let it leave. I BLAME HER. It's also for her, if she wants it.
This is RPF. Emphasis on the F. That stands for fiction. I wouldn't know KB or Chris Lowell's personalities if I fell over them. I also know nothing of their relationships, with each other or other people. I didn't bother to find out.
This is completely based on this, which leobrat and I quoted to each other for most of the afternoon. Even if you don't want to read the fic, I still recommend the interview. Because it is HIGH-liarious to the nth degree.
She can't, for the life of her, stop laughing as they hop off the back of the golf cart. She snorts once, and she's glad they didn't get it on camera.
"Oh, God," she wheezes at Chris. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to say, 'organ-asmic?' I seriously did almost pee my pants!"
"Well, that was my goal. If I can keep you in Depends for the rest of season, my evil plan will have been realized."
He steps up next to her as she walks toward her trailer, matching her step for step.
She stops and looks over. "What are you doing?"
"I'm walking you to your trailer."
She snorts again. "Because I'm going to get lost on the way?"
He grins, lopsided. "Well, actually, I was afraid I might get lost trying to find mine. You, on the other hand, have had the same trailer for three years. I feel confident that you can get us to safety."
"Not quite three years," she corrects him. That's Kristen Bell, her inner movie-announcer says, Like her character Veronica Mars, Kristen is detail-oriented. And then she remembers. "And don't change the subject! In your answers you said my breath tastes like pit viper venom!" She carries off the stern look for about three seconds and then dissolves into another fit of giggles.
"I told you I was nervous!"
"We only practiced it like, twenty-five times!"
"Well, call it artistic license, then!"
She fumbles for a key to the trailer and smacks him on the shoulder. "Time to head out into the wilds of the lot, there, Chris."
"What, are there dirty clothes or something? Is Kristen Bell suddenly a bad housekeeper?"
She rolls her eyes. "Oh, fine. Come on in." She looks around him quickly to see if the crew members are still hanging around, but the coast seems clear.
Kristen heads to the back of the trailer, keeping an eye out for embarrassing lapses in cleanliness as she goes.
"So," Chris says, sitting down at the tiny table she hasn't bothered to fold up and put away. "What should I have said your breath tastes like?"
She comes back with a sweatshirt, thinking darkly that someone had gotten a little overzealous with the air conditioning. But then, looking back, it had probably been her.
Kristen plops down next to him. "Nothing! Breath doesn't taste like anything!"
"Really?"
He's really close now and she's rethinking letting him into her trailer in the middle of the day. Who knew when Rob would decide he needed to reshoot…
"Because this morning, I thought it tasted like coffee." He leans in and runs his lips ever so lightly across hers. "And then a little later…" she feels his mouth curl into a smile, "it tasted like omlette."
She's laughing again and then he's not teasing anymore, he's kissing her and he tastes like chocolate and Starbucks and she doesn't care if it's the middle of the day-this is totally worth it.
She pulls back for a moment, and his eyes crinkle nearly shut with amusement.
"Just promise me you won't tell the media my breath tastes like omlette, okay? They'd have a field day."
He smiles and pulls her close. "Come over here," he says softly. "Didn't you have a camel bite you were going to show me?"
Author: No one who will admit to it
Word Count: 566 words
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Kristen Bell/Chris Lowell
A/N: This is 100%, completely leobrat's fault. She tricked me. She put it in my head and wouldn't let it leave. I BLAME HER. It's also for her, if she wants it.
This is RPF. Emphasis on the F. That stands for fiction. I wouldn't know KB or Chris Lowell's personalities if I fell over them. I also know nothing of their relationships, with each other or other people. I didn't bother to find out.
This is completely based on this, which leobrat and I quoted to each other for most of the afternoon. Even if you don't want to read the fic, I still recommend the interview. Because it is HIGH-liarious to the nth degree.
She can't, for the life of her, stop laughing as they hop off the back of the golf cart. She snorts once, and she's glad they didn't get it on camera.
"Oh, God," she wheezes at Chris. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to say, 'organ-asmic?' I seriously did almost pee my pants!"
"Well, that was my goal. If I can keep you in Depends for the rest of season, my evil plan will have been realized."
He steps up next to her as she walks toward her trailer, matching her step for step.
She stops and looks over. "What are you doing?"
"I'm walking you to your trailer."
She snorts again. "Because I'm going to get lost on the way?"
He grins, lopsided. "Well, actually, I was afraid I might get lost trying to find mine. You, on the other hand, have had the same trailer for three years. I feel confident that you can get us to safety."
"Not quite three years," she corrects him. That's Kristen Bell, her inner movie-announcer says, Like her character Veronica Mars, Kristen is detail-oriented. And then she remembers. "And don't change the subject! In your answers you said my breath tastes like pit viper venom!" She carries off the stern look for about three seconds and then dissolves into another fit of giggles.
"I told you I was nervous!"
"We only practiced it like, twenty-five times!"
"Well, call it artistic license, then!"
She fumbles for a key to the trailer and smacks him on the shoulder. "Time to head out into the wilds of the lot, there, Chris."
"What, are there dirty clothes or something? Is Kristen Bell suddenly a bad housekeeper?"
She rolls her eyes. "Oh, fine. Come on in." She looks around him quickly to see if the crew members are still hanging around, but the coast seems clear.
Kristen heads to the back of the trailer, keeping an eye out for embarrassing lapses in cleanliness as she goes.
"So," Chris says, sitting down at the tiny table she hasn't bothered to fold up and put away. "What should I have said your breath tastes like?"
She comes back with a sweatshirt, thinking darkly that someone had gotten a little overzealous with the air conditioning. But then, looking back, it had probably been her.
Kristen plops down next to him. "Nothing! Breath doesn't taste like anything!"
"Really?"
He's really close now and she's rethinking letting him into her trailer in the middle of the day. Who knew when Rob would decide he needed to reshoot…
"Because this morning, I thought it tasted like coffee." He leans in and runs his lips ever so lightly across hers. "And then a little later…" she feels his mouth curl into a smile, "it tasted like omlette."
She's laughing again and then he's not teasing anymore, he's kissing her and he tastes like chocolate and Starbucks and she doesn't care if it's the middle of the day-this is totally worth it.
She pulls back for a moment, and his eyes crinkle nearly shut with amusement.
"Just promise me you won't tell the media my breath tastes like omlette, okay? They'd have a field day."
He smiles and pulls her close. "Come over here," he says softly. "Didn't you have a camel bite you were going to show me?"